Blueberry Patch

I’m leaving my mind for your sweet streets
running red lights to shallow depths
my body a clock tower expressing shadows in the
cloud breaks bleak daylight

I want to call your swift name
in my soft voice.

in sentinel languages
our words are media viruses of the mind
spreading slow jam ancient blueberry riddles
backwards through time between our mouths

cracked liberty bells for eyes
stone columns for limbs
smacking together at the hips cackling laughs
where pendulums in the back of our throat swing
twisting time away into little bits of paper
inside a snow globe being shaken
like a snake slithering out of it’s skin
we find new beginnings
at the end of blueberry patch roads
and make bramble love
our eyes full of halos
in the bushes of your
tangled hair
I let my bent fingers run free
like ten naked meadow children dancing
weaving common sense and circumstance
into afghans of courage and love.

I don’t really mind today that I don’t understand.
you take me places I have never been.